Exploring life in the last three years finding freedom in truth and storytelling. A bridge recently revisited only to discover a ledge not there. How? Impossible. A fingertip grip and a perfectly orchestrated team of superheroes. Isn’t that life though? A gaggle of human beings hanging on by the fingertips and trying to survive?

19 years of thankfulness, gratitude, and humility. We are gifted with today.

19 years trying to be better, falling, failing, succeeding, sucking and winning. Reflection: what has happened to you in the last 19 years?

Look up. Look around. There are people hanging by their fingertips. Reach out. Dive in and expect nothing in return. Love. Just be. Be present. Be bold. Be truth. Be heart. Be kindness. Be selfless. Be.

Tell your story. However grand or small. It isn’t your story to keep. Someone needs it. Watching and waiting. Tell it again and again, old chapters and new ones too. There will always be fresh ears to hear. Silence the noise that you shouldn’t tell it. It isn’t redundant.

Purpose on Earth – see, smell, taste, hear, and show. Tall trees, vast mountains, butterflies, and tiny fluorescent ladybugs in the tropics. Loud and boisterous humans, meek people, flashy, humble, angry, or sad. Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…humor in everything. Laugh. Big belly laughs. Laughing in the midst of pain because it is the best medicine.

19 years of bad rap. Good music and hip-hop to make up for it. Soul piercing lyrics serenading you while you hold onto the ledge. We are gifted at this moment. Colorful art and poems written by kindergarteners. Shitty politicians. War. Poverty…preposterous isn’t it? Wreckless abandon and guns in schools. Babies born. Children graduating. Ying with the Yang. The good with the bad. Pain. Beauty. You are here. Watching people die. Loved and hated ones. Opportunity to wake up and do it again. Maybe?

Can you feel it? Smell it? Taste it? Do you hear?

Show the world what you are capable of doing.

A tomorrow never promised but there is a promise in the present, always.

A few weeks ago, it was pouring rain for five days, or perhaps a month because it felt like that, and it was relentless. One particular day in the tundra of rain my husband was, hmmm…how do I say this politely, complaining we didn’t have any umbrellas in our house. If we have had them, they somehow disappear. I didn’t want him to know I had one in the front seat of my car. Albeit, busted and small, the umbrella was a delicious red secret I was unwilling to share.

Later that day, or maybe even the next day, I was out running errands. It was pouring, and pouring, and pouring. I was trying to get it all done before kids needed to be greeted getting off the afternoon bus.

As I was preparing to turn onto Detroit Rd to access the highway a man with a vest and short sleeves was standing on the corner of the intersection, rain saturating him as he waited for the crosswalk signal. He had no jacket and looked like he was in work clothes of some sort, maybe a mechanic? I felt weird for a moment. Here I am in my heated car, listening to some jams, spending cheddar like a boss and this guy is standing out in the rain.

I turned left and a nudge in my spirit said, “Turn around and give that man your umbrella.” To which I responded, “My crappy umbrella that is perhaps 3 sizes too small?” The answer back, “Yes.” Large sigh ensued, and I realized I wasn’t going to be able to pull a quick U-turn. I had to drive over the bridge and as I was about to make a U-turn a cop was sitting at the light as if saying, “Try me, girl.” “Dang it,” I said out loud. I proceeded to turn down the next street over and a huge semi was waiting at that light causing me to have to go halfway down the side street to turn around in a business parking lot. “Siggggghhhhhhhh. This is ridiculous because by the time I make it back this dude will be gone.”

After what seemed like five minutes to get back to the intersection, I saw the man was gone. “Turn right,” the nudge said. I turned right and what do you know about ¼ mile down the road he was standing at another crosswalk preparing to cross; conveniently on my side of the road allowing me to be able to roll down my passenger window and hand him the busted red umbrella through my passenger window.

He looked at me with surprise, as the rain pelted his face, smiled and said, “Gracias.” I felt like a complete jerk handing him my way small umbrella with a few broken wings. He immediately opened it up and put it over his head. It provided a quaint space of shelter, enough to keep the pellets of rain from beating on his face.

I turned back around in the parking lot I had pulled into and passed him once again. Slight wave to each other and back to two strangers passing in the pouring rain.

I don’t want a gold medal or a pat on the back for the act of kindness. I share because I think of all the moments in my life I was shown immense grace. There were many times, probably most of the times, I did not deserve it. Poor choices, terrible decisions, selfish moments, you know probably like every single one of us. Yet I was always afforded the gift of grace.

I didn’t have much to give this man. It was inconvenient to my day and the logistics to perform the duty was painful. I will never know the end result, whether it was pointless or changed his day. We had minimal communication and I’m pretty sure he didn’t speak a lick of English.

Grace doesn’t have to explain itself.

Grace just is. Grace is free to give, as it has been given to us freely. No agenda. No questions asked. No expectations. Well, maybe one expectation. Perhaps to pass it on.

All you have to have is a stockpile of busted red umbrellas and a moment to spare.

My last baby is off to Kindergarten, and I am an excited and nervous ball of mush. My only girl and I have to send her off into the world; I know the trials and tribulations that come along with playing the role of a female today and I want to wrap her up in bubble wrap for the rest of her life. I know, whoa Mama, land your helicopter and give the girl some room to breathe won’t you!

The other day the future graduating class of 2031 (say what?!?!) was invited to take a picture in front of the famous rock at the high school. The rock is your typical suburbia tradition that gets painted over the years for various reasons and celebrations. For this particular moment, the rock was painted in our traditional maroon, white, and black adorned with our pirate mascot and the year 2031.

It came time for the chaotic swirl of running kindergarteners to settle by the rock for their picture debut. I stood back a bit as some parents were pointing and directing their children where to sit or stand. There were a few vying for the front and center so their little cupcake wouldn’t be missed in the picture. I felt the urge to jump in and navigate my own child, but I resisted proving to myself I can let go of control.

My little Anna Banana went straight for the rock. She wanted a place on top of it and there were about four boys already positioned on the boulder. Anna clawed her way up as kids were stumbling all over each other finding their spots. She found a small area on the right side of the rock and planted her hands down and started working out her core muscles so she wouldn’t fall off. She was going to die before letting go. I quietly said in my head, “That’s right, baby girl, you fight for your spot on that rock. Don’t give in. You have a place on the rock just as much as any of those boys, or anyone for that matter.”

Anna fell off a few times during the chaos of kids claiming their spots and she crawled right back up. Her facial expressions threw off some shade to let a few kids know she was displeased and she was not moving. She was pushed, stepped on, and almost lost a few fingers as Nike shoes smashed her hand while kids fought it out. My girl made it through, the time came for the picture, and she smiled proudly as it was taken.

She fought, she overcame, and she conquered. YES, SHE DID!

Stand firm on the rock, my love.

Stand firm on the rock of confidence. You have to believe in yourself. It is non-negotiable.

Stand firm on the rock and fight for your place. You belong there.

Stand firm on the rock of strength. You have it. It is ingrained in your bones.

Stand firm on the rock of perseverance. You WILL fall off and you will get right back up.

Stand firm on the rock of grace. Give it out generously even when people step all over you.

Stand firm on the rock of beauty. You see, my angel, it is within you just as much as it is on the outside.

Stand firm on the rock of kindness. You fight for your position and be nice without being a pushover.

Stand firm on the rock of faith. As long as you try, and you believe in your very core, eventually something will come to fruition. Sometimes in ways, you will never expect.

Stand firm on the rock of charm. You may disapprove of things but do it with tenacity and an alluring spirit.

Stand firm on the rock of courage. Be fearless, Banana. Adventure awaits you. Don’t miss out because fear lied to you.

Stand firm on the rock of forgiveness. Regardless if it hurts. Someone will fail you at some point in your life. I know. I’ve experienced it. Never the less, I had to forgive because I was the one living in a prison, not them. Forgive, let go, and find empathy. This does not allow a pass. Define your boundaries. The person who hurt you is suffering far worse than you are. Trust me.

Most importantly, stand firm on the rock of love. Dish it out freely. Unlimited supply. The world needs it desperately.

The other day I did one of my absolute favorite activities and went grocery shopping with a 5 and 8-year-old. Summer is a time of unity showcased by my two children every day and I love taking them everywhere I go. Can you hear the birds singing right now? Sooooooo…as they were fighting in the cart (because it is the best idea to allow a 5 and 8-year-old sit in a cart) and I was struggling to concentrate on finding my items on my list, an older gentleman kept passing us by. It was loud and chaotic, and as I was screaming at my children in a whisper to knock it off or I was going to make them really regret their future, I couldn’t help but notice this old man.

He looked about 80-90 years old, a bit spacy, and snot was dripping from his nose. As he shuffled past me in the 3rd aisle we happened to be in, something in my mind urged me to ask him if he needed help. Now mind you, I’m stressed, my kids are being ridiculous, and I have ten minutes to finish up my stuff and get on to the next mundane task I had for the day. I was like, “Seriously???? I can’t stand my children, I’m stressed, what possibly can I do for this guy?” Yet I felt the nudge again.

I left my kids fighting by the ice cream cooler and turned back down the aisle and approached the man. He was so zoned out and staring forward while leaning on his cart, that when I asked him if I could help him find anything on his list he drooled his way out of his catatonic state and shifted his eyes to me.

“Oh, I’m okay. Thank you”, he said, “I’m just working through my list.” He chuckled a bit and said, “Very slowly as you can see. But, I’ll get through it.”

I replied, “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need any help. Lists are such a pain sometimes!”

As I walked away he said, “Honey, thank you. Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it.” I turned back and rested my hand on his shoulder and said, “Of course! We are in this life together!”

It got me thinking today as I’m struggling to feel positive about the world. We have to be careful in the midst of all this fighting, finger pointing, hate spewing, and shouting from our soap boxes that we are in this together. I was surrounded by chaos the other day with my children, rushing through life, fighting the urge to crawl into a box and never come out, when I felt the desire to check up on an old man in the grocery store. Did I end up helping him shop the rest of the way? No. Did I change the world in a moment? Perhaps in a small way. What if the only point was to let him know I saw him? Someone noticed him in the middle of a dark and angry world full of children fighting in a grocery cart.

A division is the Devil’s playground – be careful when you are playing in the sandbox. We must fight to keep the unity and positivity flowing. We have to be aware of our surroundings and never stop reaching out to people walking by us. It is good in this world. I’m hopeful. Let’s be vigilant.

Sometimes I find myself feeling guilty when sharing about good fortune, a chance in a lifetime trip, and enjoying the fruits of our labor. I’m apologetic or downplay the excitement in my voice in a conversation. There is a slight deflection in my tone as if I were apologizing for spilling milk on the floor. Mind you, I’m not running around shouting it from the trees, but why the heck can ‘t I? Why can’t you?

I remind myself that at one point in my life I was in the depths of Hell. There was no light or good fortune, but darkness and despair and addiction. God isn’t one of guilt but of celebration. I am thankful for every chance I get to experience another day here on Earth. Aren’t you?! Think about the trials and tribulations you have gone through. Look around and do you see the beauty in another day? Celebrate good fortune coming your way and the gifts from which you receive. If you are still deep in your trial, remember, it is merely a moment in time and it shall pass. It can be hard when you are in the deep end of the ocean fighting against wave after wave. I feel you. Life is a series of twists and turns – some are devasting, gut-wrenching, soul-depleting tornadoes. For other people, they seem to skate through life with a few small trips to the ground but nothing more than a scrape to the knee. Either way, we journey and we survive. We journey and we survive.

So today I celebrate life. It is good to be alive. I am blessed to feel the rain on my face and feel the depths of love through my children’s hugs. I enjoy sitting in my freshly painted home and taking in the fumes. I see my hanging baskets outside filled with vibrant colors of flowers and bask in their beauty. Today I got to walk two 8-year-olds to school and laughed at their silly conversations as I walked behind and I took a mental snapshot so I never forget the moment. I got to experience an incredible sunrise in Hawai’i recently and I am not sorry to share it. How majestic is His name!

In the same breath, later that day, I will remember the beautiful girl with the long blonde hair in the parking lot across from the sparkling blue water and sandy beach. She was strung out, sitting on a curb and smoking her cigarette. She was staring at two dogs playfully wrestling in front of her totally oblivious to her catatonic state. This woman was deep in her Hell, in paradise, and life was swirling around her as she was frozen in time. I felt her pain, prayed a prayer for her and carried an image of her in my head for the rest of the trip. I still see, God. I do. All the more reason to keep sharing your story. Our story. Hope is real and it is fuel for others. Hang on, people. Just hang on for those in the struggle.

Second chances, big and small, are such a gift. Celebrate your life unapologetically if you are in a season of fruitfulness.

Share your good fortune (not just monetary) because, in essence, you are sharing God’s goodness.

I watched him through the wall of glass as I sat at the desk in the administration building of the men’s crisis center. There was a backdrop of sparsely littered trees, naked and shivering in the cold wind, and the sun was making a half-attempt to warm the surrounding concrete jungle and abandoned buildings. It was as if the sun gave up on this embarrassing piece of land because there isn’t a point anymore. This is the neighborhood that is conveniently left out of the vibrant-colored brochures showcasing the “must see” sights in Cleveland. Curiosity got the best of me because I could not understand why this man was walking with a bucket in his hand in the middle of a 30-degree morning.

He shuffled to the front door, placed his white bucket with a sealed top down, and proceeded to walk in the entrance hallway. He was a large man with a bloated belly, a few teeth missing, and was wearing dirty white sneakers that forgot to put on their laces that morning. He looked a bit like a disheveled kid with his jacket unzipped. I buzzed him in and as he entered I felt the wave of alcohol ripple through the air and it smacked me right in the nostrils. I welcomed him with a warm smile, “How may I help you?”

“Hi, Ma’am,” he politely said, “I’m just looking for a pair of warm pants.” I looked him in the eyes as the cold snot ran down his lip. I wondered how many people avoid making eye contact with him on a daily basis. All day long people avoiding this homeless man, as they nervously speed up their pace to pass by or over him. They play right into the rumor if you look a homeless person in the eyes they will steal your first born, or worse, your soul.

I gently explained to him the policies of our center, how we serve our clients staying in our shelter, and encouraged him to go next door to get a bed. I could see in his eyes that he probably wasn’t going that route and gave him a street card. It is a double-sided paper with a list of resources and phone numbers to the city’s services for those in crisis.

“Do you have a phone?” I asked. “No, ma’am,” he replied. I proceeded to give him directions to a church that happened to hand out clothing to those in need on that very day. A soft boozy “thank you” floated my way, and he walked out the door.

I can’t save this man. I know it. I can’t fix him in the 5 mins of human connection we just experienced, probably the only connection he will receive today. I do know one thing, I can be empathetic and that I’m certain. I’m not naive to the fact that he could very well be dangerous, but I can feel his pain. I know I can take a moment and pray for his alcohol addiction and for freedom from his bondage.

I encapsulate the pain he has caused his family. I can see the relationships he was supposed to be in charge of but he broke instead. I can envision his downward spiral to homelessness, left with a bucket and the clothes on his back. He didn’t have an ID and I didn’t even ask him his name. I can feel the empty love he probably received as a child. Sadly there could be a father he never knew and I see the hugs he never got to receive from him. I know the tumultuous love affair he has with alcohol and how it has robbed his self-worth and the integrity he once possessed. Maybe he served our country and saw the bloodshed of war. There is a possibility that mental illness has ravished his brain. Perhaps he witnessed abuse, was a victim of it or was the abuser himself. Maybe, just maybe, he chose this life and he doesn’t give a flying donkey. Although I would argue that because his voice was soft and full of thankful defeat.

I can imagine what it is like to surrender to your demons and leave your “man card” back in the alley of your last party. It takes guts to look someone in the eye, vulnerable to the esoteric, and ask for a pair of warm pants. He was too appreciative for me to believe he was living a life of intentional reckless abandon. No. He is a prisoner to his own vices. He and his lover, alcohol, have probably left a trail of destruction in their wake but who I am to push his head even deeper into the waves.

As I watched him sit on the bucket outside (ah that is why – he uses it as a mobile chair), and review the street card I gave him, the tears welled up in my eyes. The pain of realizing the bucket and booze were the last pieces grasping for purpose in this man’s life, was too much for my heart to handle. No, I can’t help him. His needs are far too great. But I can treat him like a human for a few mere minutes of my time. That I can do.

I remember the day you were born. I was only a mere 20 years old and scared out of my mind. My life was in turmoil and the relationship with your father was toxic, if I may say so politely. I was blown up by about 65 lbs and waddled like a penguin. I was HUGE (insert Trump voice here). Ask Bob, and he will tell you because he has seen the pictures. He laughed so hard he cried. I’m not sure why I believed wearing a Mumu back then would highlight my pregnancy well.

There was so much emotion running through me as I laid in that bed on June 1st. I was so young, excited, hopeful, nervous, and uncertain about the future with your Dad. Nothing worked to dilate me and they discovered the umbilical cord was wrapped around your body. So c-section it was and after the surgery they laid your chubby 9lbs 14 oz body in my arms. There we were, two kids, staring at each other in the eyes. You were like, “Okay, girl, don’t screw this up because I’m counting on you.” I was like, “Okay, baby, I’m scared as Hell but I guess we will figure this out together.”

I wish I could paint a beautiful, picture-perfect family and life that followed. It wasn’t. Spoiler alert: the life I wanted to provide for you didn’t start off as planned and heart-shaped clouds weren’treal back then. It was hard. I made a ton of mistakes. I gave up hope. I walked away from responsibility. I wanted to die. I wanted the pain and abuse I suffered to stop. I wanted it to be normal. I longed for stability for you. I wanted to skip down the street holding you, and your father’s hand, with the sun beaming on our faces and heart-shaped clouds splattered in the sky.

Here is the thing though, it doesn’t matter how you started but how you finish. Looking back I realize I did the best I could under the circumstances I was handed. I was broken, sick, and wounded. While some people push through that unscathed, others are worn down to the bone and one isn’t better than the other. We all face adversity differently. I healed through the years and worked at being a better person and mother. I provided an amazing Stepfather for you and recreated a better life. We poured into you and tried our best to heal your broken heart and restore your feelings.

We pushed you. We stretched you. We invested so much into your tumultuous early teenage years. We encouraged you. We watched you turn from an unsure child into a confident and flourishing teenager. It was hard. Hard on you and hard on us. While we can take a little credit, it really says a lot about you. You are strong, adventurous, brave, and a risk taker. You persevered through some major traumas in life and remained resilient. It comes to no surprise you are an United States Marine.

I am in awe of you, Alex. You see…I was terrified at your age. Weak. I had no ambition. I was scared and pregnant. Here you are at 19 years old doing something so incredible and selfless. You are sacrificing your freedom. The freedom to do what you will and when you want. While the other 99% of the United States population wakes up and carries on their day as they deem fit, you are getting into your uniform and strapping on your boots. There are days of extreme exhaustion and mental anguish. You have dug 8 foot trenches in the rain and in the back of your head you were thinking about your friends zipping around town, and stopping at Chipotle for the 7th time in a week. Infantry is no joke. Of course, you are in one of the hardest units in the Corps. Your luck, right?!

You have suffered through rashes, bug bites, torn heels, flesh missing from your feet, achy back, people yelling at you for breathing, extreme heat, 70lb gear on your back while taking a brisk 20-mile walk and so on. At times you have trained on no sleep in nearly 48 hours and only ate a snack in that time. You train to kill or be killed. The everyday reality looming over your head that somewhere out in the world children are being trained at the tender age of 10 years old to hate you for being an American and learning how to kill you.

I recently received an email from your Unit Commander and it hit me hard. The reality of what lies ahead. The possibility of where you are going in the near future. The steps a family takes to prepare for deployment including assigning a Power of Attorney and writing out a will. I remind myself, you signed up for this. I remember what you said to me on the phone one day, “Mom, I know I am doing what I am supposed to be doing right now.” I will rest in that. I will rest knowing you are currently on the path you are supposed to be on even if it doesn’t make sense to me.

This doesn’t change the fact there are days you feel defeated or regretful. Days that you wish you could throw in the towel, hang with friends back home, and overindulge in Chipotle while listening to that crappy rap music you listen to. Haven’t Bob and I taught you anything about the quality of rap you should be listening to?! I’m sure there are nights you are awake asking yourself, “What have I done?!” There has to be. We all do it. We all question why we do the things we do or why we make the decisions we make. I’m sure you are questioning yourself right now as you are training somewhere in the mountains down south at this very moment.

Wow, may I just say, you are my hero! I look up to you. I am proud of who you are and who you always were. You are one of the bravest, strongest, grittiest, selfless, and compassionate humans I know. My heart beams with pride when it comes to you. I know you aren’t perfect, nobody is, but you sure do blow the competition away. You will stumble through life lessons many times but I am confident you will overcome anything that comes your way. You are a devil dog. You are a fighter. You are sacrifice. You are freedom. You are my son. I thank God for you and allowing me to be your mother. I did not deserve you but He believed in me anyway.

The future is unknown – really for all of us. In the meantime, I will be thankful for the opportunity to finish stronger than I started and be your number one supporter and fan. I love you, Alex, with all my heart. I never doubted the greatness within you. OohRah!!

Thank you to all the service men and women serving all over the world. The ones on the frontline, sidelines, and waiting to jump ahead of the lines. We will never be able to sufficiently express the gratitude we feel toward your everyday sacrifice. Thank you to the families that sacrifice their husbands, wives, moms, dads, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, grandchildren, and friends. You are just as strong and brave and you have a very hard job too.

Depression is like that annoying little sibling who follows you everywhere and wants to make you miserable with every breath you take. “Are you sure you are okay? Do you really think you are happy? Aren’t you kind of failing at life right now? The mom thing…meh…mediocre. Chasing after your dreams..please….you are nuts. I’m not sure, maybe you should look in the mirror a little longer so you can see the failure I see. Hey, look at Sally Sue’s page, she is in Prague and doesn’t have to fix her air conditioner. Oh, look, Nick just saved a family of kittens stuck in a tree. Mary just solved world peace and eradicated world hunger!!!!!” So on and so forth. It follows you into the shower, your car, the book you are reading, at the play ground, in the pool with your kids, and wakes you up in the middle of the night to rattle off every single bad thing you have done in your life.

It is the shenanigans in your brain that start to set up camp. The SUV pulls up to a grassy spot in your head and pops open the trunk to start unloading all the junk stored in there. As fear, doubt, boredom, and failure set up at the campsite they overtake your mind. Before you know it, anything you set out to accomplish has run off with confidence, and you are stuck back at the site listening to fear tell you scary stories around the fire. It’s that feeling of dread that lingers over you and follows you with every move you make and thoughts race through the mind when you sit in idleness.

Then throw in some social media surfing to warp your brain even more and cause you to believe everyone is doing way better than you are. We all know it is an illusion exposing the best side of their face but we allow our minds to be tricked. Heck, even I do it. The pictures are filtered with Instagram’s Mayfair or Nashville (when you want to really portray an artsy hipster), yet, you allow it to join in with the other campers and pitch a tent. Sigh. Who allowed this jerk to hang out? Depression – the soul-sucking life-taking, not giving, thing that merely wants to bring you down with every move you make.

It hit me like a ton of bricks last week. It was an overwhelming sadness that oozed like a festering blister into every crevice of my brain. In all honesty, I haven’t felt that way in years. If I recall, probably since my Anna Banana was born. I had some bouts of postpartum depression that rocked me for a few months but I’ve managed to skate through the last few years with very minimal feelings of sadness. Minus losing my Mother-in-law and life’s little stresses here and there, I’ve been real good.

Here is the deal, if I’m honest I let it in with my own free will. If I do an accountability check there are a few things that I have let slip. I stopped writing, exercise has been sporadic, diet has been average, and I haven’t tapped into relationships around me or connected with God as much. I also ran out of Vitamin B which is detrimental to hindering my brain fog and feelings of sadness. My husband lovingly calls Vitamin B my crazy pill. Natural drugs, of course, because we are a Chiropractic loving family after all. When all of these things are in practice, I am armored with the tools I need to fight off the feelings of despair wanting to infiltrate the happy trail I am skipping along on.

Thankfully, it was only a week long. There were a few times my thoughts went pretty dark but small things started to happen to lift me out. A friend reached out with a proposal of sorts for me to participate in an event later in the year. I received an email from a stranger asking to share my writing. I joined Ctown in my area for the next 6 week fitness program. Someone shared with me their struggles with depression the very week I was suffering. Slowly the clouds lift and the sun returns. That’s the thing we can focus on. Not the sadness or the deceitful lies inside fighting over the last S’mores. The sun will always return as dependable as ever.

It is okay to allow ourselves some forgiveness. We can always recoup from the position we put ourselves into. It is even okay to take the filter off and let people see behind the smoke and mirrors. It gives an opportunity to share our struggles and help others know they are not alone. Let me tell you from experience, Isolation, is one of the most obnoxious campers of all. The one who strums the guitar, drowning all the other voices out, singing Pink Floyd’s “Is Anyone Out There” over and over on repeat. Alone. Just you and Isolation’s out of tune key being carried out throughout the campsite and surrounding forest. Don’t let it fool you. Because you are not. We are not. Alone is the grandest of illusions that cannot thrive as long as we have each other.

Today I am going to express gratitude for some of my body parts…..I’m sorry I don’t appreciate you every day.

I would like to thank my Teeth for allowing me to enjoy my kryptonite – mac n’ cheese and brownies – but also foods that nourish me like kale, protein shakes, and chicken. So.much.chicken. You never fail to let me know when I have lettuce stuck in-between you because I can feel the food tickling my gums. I wish all people were as honest as you guys. You know who you are….the one who doesn’t let someone know they are rocking broccoli in the teeth.

Thank you, Knees, for allowing me to still pull some yoga moves and exercises. I know people suffer from knee pain and I remind myself to appreciate you both now because one day you probably are going to turn on me, you slimy b*stards. #oldpeopleproblems

Thank you, Legs, for getting me up Mt. Kilimanjaro and running 4 Half Marathons. Even at times when I was being lazy and trying to talk myself out of it, you guys pulled through with the strength I needed. You played a big part in helping me to believe I can do anything with the two of you in my life.

Thank you, Toes, for giving me peace throughout my body when I dip you in the ocean. I savor the moments standing there as the salty water rushes over each of you, and puts me in a catatonic state as I watch the waves seep back into the ocean. Rinse. Repeat. A Snapchat experience of what I can only imagine Heaven is like.

Thank you, Eyes, for giving me sight. You allow me to see the world for all its beauty even when we are amid chaos, pain, and darkness. You help me to see light exists in a dark world.

Thank you, Wrinkles, for existing. I admit at times I have tried to convince Brain with ways we can eliminate you. There are so many options to banish you from my face and at times I even considered poisoning you guys. Hopefully only a manslaughter charge? But, Brain reminds me there was once a young woman 21 years old and she wanted to die. She lost hope and didn’t have the will to live anymore and a MIRACLE rescue occurred on that day; She was saved for reasons she still can’t fathom. Her wrinkles serve as a beautiful reminder she has seen yet another day. That woman is me and it would be a shame if I didn’t see the aging in my face as miracle upon miracle happening right before my eyes.

Thank you, Muffin top, or as I refer to you affectionately “Foopa” for being that constant friend that never leaves me even when I am a total jerk and try to rip you to shreds with my words. You are always there like a permanent fanny pack. Yes, I may cuss at times when I am stuffing you into my jeans and trying my best to flatten you out, but know I do love you. Sure, there are times you can’t breathe because I have cut off your circulation with my tight pants and probably your will to live, but please understand what you mean to me. You helped me carry 3 beautiful babies into this world and I am eternally grateful for that. I know there are many women suffering in the world because their body does not allow them to carry a baby of their own. I also know at times when I am staring at bikini bods trapesing the pool or oceanside, they too are suffering from their own issues. Their issues look different than mine.

Thank you, Brain, for putting up with my crap. I’ve abused you with drugs and alcohol, undervalued you, and didn’t always give you the accolades you deserve. There were times I was embarrassed by you and didn’t believe in the intelligence you possess. I’ve questioned you and at times forgot to use you to make the right choices. I’ve been a very convincing “friend” and deterred you from all the goodness and glory you deserve. There have been times I have assisted in having you compromise your values and consider things like changing our body so that I could “feel” better about myself. That is not fair to you or body or to God. He believes I am perfect from my head to my toes.

Although if I am honest…I will still plot was to get rid of Muffin top because fanny packs are so last decade. For today though, I will appreciate you all. Thank you. Thank you.

If you are reading this chances are you know a bit about me or perhaps you don’t. If you don’t know much about me feel free to check out my bio. It pretty much sums me up in a paragraph. I’m not sure if that is pathetic or not, but it is the times we live in and we have 30 seconds to share who we are and then your audience is bouncing to the next thing. Today we function in Snapchat speed – ten seconds or less – GO!

Over the last year and a half, I’ve broken down the barriers of shame and shared my story. Along with that many things have happened and many feelings transpired. The first time I shared my story was via a fundraising campaign and I posted it on social media. As soon as I clicked the ‘share’ button I broke out in a sweat and completely panicked, “What did I do?! How do I erase it? Is there somebody I can contact in the Internets, like a customer service department? Oh, I know. How about contacting that group, Anonymous (the internet warriors), and have them virtually blow up my story into a million little pieces!!!” There must be a red button that can be pushed and KABBBBOOOOMMMMM. The story is gone. The truth can be erased. Clean. Simple. No trace of truth residue.

I compare sharing the truth to standing in a room completely naked and on a pedestal while a room full of people walk around with clipboards in their hand. There are some artsy-types that sketch out your curves and quietly whisper to each other. They appreciate art and in fact, one is inspired to write a poem. One woman, in particular, has her glasses riding on the ridge of her nose, pencil tucked gently in the corner of her mouth, as she nods with approval. She sketches with an intensity and a soft face full of approval. There are two men standing nearby the lady sketching and they assess every single detail of the body. They banter back and forth dissecting every square inch. Over in the corner, there are a few women leaning against the wall and they are far enough the ear can’t hear what they are saying. Oh, but their faces tell a thousand stories and they point, laugh, and roll their eyes. Then a family wanders in and immediately they are shocked. How dare truth be shared! How dare someone share about addiction, abuse, and suicide?! Where is the dignity? Shouldn’t these conversations be private and behind closed doors?? Disgusted the couple covers the eyes of their two children and ushers them out of the room.

Then an older woman walks in with her Pomeranian in her hands and Hermes scarf around her neck. Ah, yes, I know how this lady is going to act, I say to myself. I stand there shivering in nakedness waiting for this lady to start ripping me to shred but I am wrong. She immediately cries and clutches her Pomeranian tighter in her arms, “Oh, FiFi, her truth is my truth! I was once a wanderer in the very same path she has walked. What victory! How brave to share such truth!” She tosses a thumbs up with her perfectly manicured fingers my way and walks out of the room with an extra pep in her step.

You see, I can judge myself. I have been completely thrown off my game with different reactions. People I assumed would be embarrassed for me because I was so vulnerable and raw turned out to be my biggest supporters and opened up their own truth with me. Others I thought would be understanding have thrown a bit of shade my way. There have been highs and lows over the course of the last year and a half. There are times of confidence and absolute regret. I have had amazing conversations and some very uncomfortable conversations. When people talk to me in person there are times I am dying inside. It is wayyyyyy easier to share the truth behind a computer screen. I see how easy it is to become an Internet warrior sloughing off at the mouth through a keyboard. People be crazy on the Internet!

There has been one thing that remains constant in truth – layers of freedom are revealed. Each time truth is shared another layer of shame, regret, and bondage is stripped from the bones. For every time there is a feeling of immediate regret, a person reaches out to assure you that your truth is welcome and very much needed. There is a dire need for stories of truth to be shared today. There are so many battles being fought and all you have to do is log on to the Internet and you will find people hurting and seeking understanding. As we each begin to share our struggles and battles, another person strips naked and jumps up on the pedestal. Before you know it, we will all be standing there completely naked, in all shapes and sizes, and none will be the fool. Nothing to see here, folks, just a bunch of truth-tellers stripped of shame and regret basking naked in the light of freedom. Won’t you give it a try and join us?